


Rain

by CateAdams



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action, Character Study, First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateAdams/pseuds/CateAdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A perilous mission turns into an important introspective for Spock, as he finally opens his heart to his t’hy’la in the face of a deadly confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

(posted on ksarchive.com on 20 July 2014)

   I could see the faintest brush of dawn, breaking through the thinning vegetation surrounding us. We were running, struggling, the dampness of condensed moisture left by passing leaves soaking our clothing, bringing the sharp chill of the early morning air harshly against our skin. I could smell the sea, now, and wet rock, and the subtle iron scent of human blood. I held your arm tightly, perhaps too tight for comfort, but necessary for your support. You pressed a hand against the wound on your chest, and your steps were rapid and determined, despite your injuries. You did not look at me, but I could sense your heightened emotional state, your pain, and your underlying fear and frustration. I guided you along, as the dense greenery turned to thick brush, and the trees above us retreated below an iron-gray sky laced with the first rays of the rising sun.

     You have always been able to coax my emotions from beneath my control, and even now I was aware that my expression and the tension in my muscles confirmed my anxiety. I could sense your weakening body: the injury to your head had been severe, and the cut on your torso deep. We could not slow down, however, and I did not fault myself for my lapse of physical discipline; there was no one but you to see it and you had never judged me.

     I could hear, now, the faint noises of pursuit. Our enemies were moving fast, and would be upon us soon, and I released your arm to sling across my shoulders, and wrapped my arm around your body, moving us faster. I could hear your soft sound of pain, could feel its knife-edge throb through our contact, and did not shield myself against it. This was not logical, but it held a certain meaning, to share your pain with you.

     The rays of dawn were rapidly filling the sky, and I could hear the cries of the diurnal winged creatures against the hollow rush of wind. The brush was thinning, and I could now see the stark gray of rock ahead. Rising in front of us, into the air, a sheer face, unbroken by fractures or weathering. Only a short track of dirtcovered ground extended between the edge of the forest and the unforgiving surface, and I slowed our pace, looking to the right and left. The rock wall extended in one direction, wrapping around to join with the forest, and in the other direction there was an abrupt dropoff, a ravine cascading down to the crashing sea.

     I experienced a burst of strong emotion that escaped my controls, and I believe you felt it through my touch, for your head came up and you swore in low tones as you took in the situation. I did not stop, however, and continued to move with you towards the sheer rock face, a plan flashing through my mind. As expected, I could feel your slight struggle against me, your mental signature itself singing a protest; your gift of perception was always on the edge of prescient. I lowered you to the ground, and you looked up at me briefly before glancing back at the forest, the sounds of our pursuers now evident to your human ears. I did not turn, assessing your injuries one last time. I knew that, without medical treatment, your wounds would eventually prove fatal, but I did not voice the obvious, or the irrelevant. In minutes, we would both probably be dead. That particular probability, however, did not dissuade me from this course of action, a course that was both my duty and my choice. Something you would have done, but now fell to me. And I would leap at the chance to save you, even if it meant my life.

     I finally started to turn away, my mind still stubbornly and selfishly reaching to yours, and you grasped my wrist in a startling grip. Your mouth opened, but I did not need to hear your words to understand you. Your anger and your determination not to allow me to do this were palpable. Explanation and discussion were impossible, however; there was simply no more time. And so I met your eyes, allowing my controls to loosen, allowing you to feel me through our touch. And I offered a word to you, barely murmured, but tendered with all the dignity and honesty of the Vulcan heart, the depth and transcendent permanence of the Vulcan soul. _T’hy’la._ I could sense your confusion as I pulled away, quickly, and, as I turned to face our enemies, I allowed myself an instant of sadness, for I knew that you did not understand the word, nor did you expect the emotion, and, by presenting it as such, I had been somewhat of a coward.

     I strode forward, hearing in the background the soft noises of your struggle to stand, the choked sound of your voice calling my name. No matter, for I knew that you were too weak, and that my focus must be on the battle ahead. And so, as the five warriors burst through the brush to confront me, I was ready, my mind and body prepared for what was to come. They had been armed with energy weapons, but, as the leader perceived that I was unarmed, he called out a command and the weapons were dropped in favor of swords, four of the warriors stepping forward. I allowed myself to fall into the _v’ehr’thia,_ the shallow trance of truth, the heightened awareness, feeling my body respond. The attack was coordinated, and skillful, their natural bodily strength and mastery of their weapons a fair match for me. I landed several blows, and evaded the blades long enough to perform the _to'tsu'k'hy,_ felling one of my attackers and capturing his weapon.

     From there, the combat became intense and vicious. Sharp cuts to my back and shoulders, my own green blood mingling in the dirt with splashes of saffron from my attackers’ bodies. I was forced to kill, and felt my enemy’s death as a dark stain on my mind. I could sense his pride in an honorable death, but also his fear and his helpless rage, and I felt him fly free as I rolled quickly forward, keeping the remaining two on the side of the forest, away from you.

     The fight was long, and my strength and coordination weakened by the flight into the forest and the skirmish before that, and I knew it immediately when I finally made a mistake. In a split second one of the warriors penetrated my defenses and plunged his weapon into my abdomen. I sensed the pain, catalogued the damage, and my mind, illogically, flew to you, still helpless against the rock. I don’t know if you cried out to me, but I felt the bite of human desperation and I snapped my hand forward in an impulsive gesture, gripping the wrist of my attacker with inescapable strength and forcing the weapon deeper into my body, to the hilt, forcing him closer to me. I could feel the warrior’s surprise and confusion, followed by shocked realization as he saw that he had no escape from our sudden proximity, and my own blade struck a mortal blow. I felt his death, too, but distantly, my heart pounding in my side, my mind narrowing in the heat of combat. He fell to the ground as I released him, and I stumbled backwards a step before grasping the handle of the weapon piercing my body and pulled it out, the slippery sensation of the metal through my flesh sickening.

     I now held two blades, and widened my stance, crossing the weapons in front of me as the ancient warriors of my lost world had done, the sight of the liquid dripping from the swords igniting my instincts and dissolving any remaining veneer of control. The lone warrior stood before me, now radiating fear at my grim display, and I let out a yell of challenge, my expression now wholly unguarded, feral. There was an instant where we stood motionless, as still as the unyielding rock, the very sound of the sea and the wind seemingly gone silent, waiting.

     And then the leader, standing against the backdrop of the forest, let out a sharp command. My opponent instantly lowered his weapon and backed slowly away, his eyes never leaving mine. He bent down to lift his unconscious comrade, finally averting his gaze, and moved towards the forest. The leader raised his own blade, as if in salute, and vanished behind his men, the sound of the shifting brush dying away as they retreated.

     I gradually became aware of my halting breathing, and the sense of vertigo, and looked down to see my tunic soaked in my own blood. I lowered the weapons, and stood for a moment before letting them fall to the ground, the two bodies of the men I killed on either side of me, the sounds of the sea and wind again filling my ears. I leaned my head back to look to the sky, holding my hands out to my sides as an apology to the embarked souls. My own wound was bleeding fiercely, and I knew it was too close to my heart; I would be dead within minutes, and this time for certain. Evidently, my honor and willingness to die in defense of my captain had won me the warriors’ respect, and the opportunity to meet death on my own terms.

     My first thought then was to go to you, and I took several steps before I fell to crawl the rest of the way, sensing your life as a beacon to my own. You were lying on your side, your face deathly pale, but your eyes were still open and there were tears there. You could no longer speak, and I no longer wished to, simply lying down next to you and reaching for your hand. You allowed me to take it, allowed me to hold my mind open to you, and I could sense your emotions now uncluttered, unrushed, unburdened. I felt your anguish, your torment, and, ultimately, your love. This last was a powerful, overwhelming, unexpected thing, and yet my mind, trained to logic and forbearance, thrilled to it. Needed it, as rain on a desert, as an answer to a fundamental question. I cursed my forbearance now, my resistance and my ignorance. We should have had more time. I felt your fingers tighten on mine, and your eyes slowly filled with realization and instinctive denial. You knew then that I was dying, and every particle of your being railed against it, against the relentless flow of my blood onto the dirt, against the drifting of my mind into the darkness. And I could feel that encroaching darkness, now, my gaze meeting yours firmly, urgently, feeling your strength and your love and forcing myself to believe that it was enough.

     However, when the mists finally obscured my eyes, I was not ready, and I struggled. Mind and body, and especially soul. I did not want to leave you, but, more, I did not want to leave you alone. I do not know how long I fought, and against what demons, and I came sharply back to the sound of voices, the feeling of hands on my person, the dim touch of thoughts and the sensation of movement. But I could not sense you, and I struggled again, only to fall into a different darkness.

     This was something I recognized, the _tow-kath,_ something that was inherent to my physical self, and yet I fought it, fought to be free of it, reaching out with my mind to search for you. I felt consciousness returning as an icy shower of cutting pain and brightness, of the shrill scream of medical monitors and a cacophony of shouting. My mind was unprepared and still gripped in the vestiges of the trance, and I could feel the rapid approach of the doctor, his normally brusque demeanor now exuding incredulity and disapproval, and I had almost rolled myself to my side before feeling the sting of a hypospray on my neck, and the darkness became instantaneously complete.

     The climb back to consciousness this time was more difficult, done in the human manner as I had obstinately not allowed myself to retreat into insensible healing. And, yet, as I emerged, I could sense you there, waiting. I could feel your skin on mine where you held my hand. I could hear the sound of your breathing even above my own. And I could hear your voice, murmuring softly. My vision returned to the sight of your eyes, bright against toopale skin, and your brilliant smile. A thin line was all that remained of the terrible wound on your forehead, and my mind reached for you through our touch as if it had always done so. I could feel your love, your relief, your contented exasperation. Your thoughts rippled against mine, reassuring, _Allow yourself to heal, my friend. My love. I won’t let go._ And as I finally relented, slipping into the needed trance, I felt your mouth on mine, and you tasted of rain.

 

 

THE END

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and I do not make any money from this.

 

 

Vulcan translations from the VLD; _v’ehr’thia_ is my own concept, meant to be a mental preparation for combat or martial arts training.

_to'tsu'k'hy:_ nerve pinch

_tow-kath:_ healing trance


End file.
